Finally:

 Been a week since I last wrote.  It's funny how much life gets in the way of itself.  Since then, the Nuggets have played three times, I've been to one, in which we beat the Lakers by 2 points.  And I watched one last night, in which we kicked the Grizzlies butts.

  I've also been working really hard at the golf course.  So much so, that the guys out there say stuff like, "Stop working so hard Sarah, you're making the rest of us look like lazy assholes."  Too bad they are just assholes...

  I should put a sign by my tip jar that says, "$1 for every time you want to oogle me, $5 for every time you undress me with your mind."  I'd make bank.  Some guy thinks I'm his wife....and I've never met him before...while another guy, who must be 65 keeps saying, "if only I was thirty years younger..." And I think to myself, Okay Bub, you'd still be 35 and so that's still not going to work...Drunk guys have no class...well MOST guys in general have no class.  They are so obvious when they stare at my lack-of-chest.  It's even worse when I know my back is turned as I am pouring them a beer, I know they are staring at my butt...And I can almost hear what they're thinking, "Mmmm girl, wooo, the things I would do to you if I wasn't married, had two kids and a mortgage...oh man, I hope she doesn't notice I'm staring at her boobs...Oh god uh, say something about her hair..."

  But today, one man, ironically about 35, said I should be a model.  He was so sincere about it, that it made my day. He was quiet and not drunk.  And I haven't had a compliment like that on the golf course, ever.  Because I'm pretty sure I have a blowup sex-doll face and couldn't be a model for anything but porn magazines, but he meant well.  And people say guys in Mercedes are assholes, but he's been the nicest man out at the golf course.

   It all makes me want to write a book about the adventures I have in the snack bar, maybe...

   Life's funny, I guess.